


Broken Skies

by Illyrian_Nights



Category: Broken Skies
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 10:23:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13269459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illyrian_Nights/pseuds/Illyrian_Nights
Summary: I almost named this Passions of the Heart out of pure thought destitution





	Broken Skies

       Two smart knocks on the mansion’s oak door, awakened the household maid, Nan. A moment of pinching her eyes shut, for perhaps she had dreamed it. 

       Two more knocks. Loud bangs, really.

       Sighing, the woman of thirty some odd years, lifted herself out of her bed and planted her feet on the cold, stone floor. It couldn’t have been later than 3 in the morning, she mused from her melted candle. Working her way toward the entryway, Nan pulled her woolen shawl around her aching shoulders wanting for the inviting warmth of the bed she just left. Three more sharp knocks, had her mumbling about impatience and busybodies in the middle of the night. 

       Finally, she reached the great door and opened a small port hole.

       “Who calls at such an hour?” She eyed the figure outside with a discriminating look. In the silent dark, a cloaked person stood. Nan could see nothing else except two half-illuminated eyes.

       “Captain Ross of the Queen’s 5th Regiment with grave news for the family Trumaine.” The man stepped closer to reveal a heavily-bearded face marred by a long scar across his dark brow. 

       “And what grave news might that be?” 

       Captain Ross growled and stepped forward, “That is for Sir Unwin’s ear.” Nan’s brow lifted in warning but opened the side door to let him through. 

       “Give me a moment to wake the master.” Nan disappeared from the hall. Captain Ross might have taken the time to study the large hall were he not burdened with his sobering task. Despite his downcast eye, he noticed a large painting above an ornate wood table. It featured the family of the house. A shorter, square-shouldered man sat next to a curly-haired woman. Both had a child on their lap-a son and daughter. The children had inherited the raven curls of their mother and the rogue smile of their father. The boy looked to be ten.  _ Henric,  _  Ross sighed. He looked to Henric’s twin sister, Sana, with what might have been shame. The painter had captured their impish charm and conspiratorial natures. Sana was gazing adoringly at Henric, who grinned at the viewer. They both looked so alive.  

       Ross turned from the painting quickly, heart pricking with emotion, only to find himself staring at another portrait. That of grown Sana with a large, dark horse. It was a fine creature with a noble head framed by a thick, black mane. Similar to Sana’s own hair, save hers had been swept from her striking face. Black, almond eyes stared out amid a dark face, only to be accentuated by a red, smirking mouth. 

       “My daughter had captured many an heart. Pray that yours does not fall to her roguish charms.” Ross whipped around to face Sir Unwin, clad in a thick robe, unsure of what to say. He quickly resumed his posture and bowed his head.

       “Sir Unwin, I do not come with good news-“

       “Rarely does anyone who knocks on my door at such an ungodly hour. No, no. A stranger bearing the mantle of captain, if I’m not mistaken, by his signet ring. Do not be alarmed- my son, Henric, has written home many times about you, Captain Ross. Has he come with you?” Sir Unwin eyed the door. The captain looked hard at the man before answering. Unwin had aged since he had his portrait painted. His strong jaw was starting to sag as lines set in around his eyes and mouth. Grey-haired and bearded, he looked on puzzled at the captain.

       “Yes, sir. It is with the utmost sorrow that I have come to tell you that Henric has been killed upon the Battle of Girnwood a fortnight ago.” Ross’s throat constricted, preventing him from explaining any further how Henric met his fate. He didn’t know what he had expected of Unwin, for how do these great nobles grieve? Whatever he had been expecting, it had not been the wretched animal cry that tore from the older man’s throat. Ross didn’t know what to do as Unwin staggered back, hand braced against the front table, and fought for control over his breath. Tears started to well up in his gray eyes and fell, unrestrained, down his weathered face. Starting forward, the captain took the man’s wrist in one hand and shoulder in the other. He had comforted many a shocked soldier and instinct moved him to speak.

       “Breathe. There. Now slowly breathe out. Hold it. Breathe in, deeper this time.” Ross was grateful for something helpful to say, to do, as he held the man together.  _ Give him something to tether him to this world.  _ He whispered to himself.

       “He spoke only of you and Sana until the very end. It was his last request to give his sister his ring. I have it here.” Taking his hand off Unwin’s shoulder, Ross withdrew a twisted silver ring from his pocket and dropped it in into the other man’s hand. 

       “ _Oh_ _Henric_.” Unwin brought the ring to his lips and kissed it, only to start sobbing so hard that the captain thought his aged heart would give out. The next moments were among the worst of Captain Ross' life. Informing families of their fallen sons oft took a toll on a man. The nobleman dropped to his knees and Ross stooped to hold him. They sat there as the father grieved.

       Both men started as a door creaked open.

       “Father?” Sana stared quizzically at the two men from behind the door. 

       “Oh Sana..”  Unwin breathed. Her father’s eyes were downcast, unable to meet her own. She took a step forward and looked to the tall stranger for answers. His dark eyes hardened and his throat bobbed.

       “Henric, he- I’m afraid-” Was there any way to complete that sentence? 

       There was no need as Sana’s eyes widened in comprehension. Looking to her father, she placed a hand over her heart. 

       Dame Sana ran to the stables, found Dom, and swung up onto his bareback. A swift glance at her face made the drowsy approaching stable master think twice and open the front stable doors wide. With a nod, Sana hurriedly walked through the doors into the black night. Dom sensed the rage of emotions of his rider, worriedly eyeing her as they exited the stable.

       As soon as they reached the soft ground outside, Sana and Dom surged forward, covering ground with the ferocity of a hurricane. Tearing across night’s silent landscape, Sana let loose her wild hair and threw off her burdensome cloak. Her world became a torrent of beating hooves and whistling wind, shrouded in midnight mist softly illuminated by the full moon. Dom-sweet, obedient Dom-carried her away from the cursed mansion to the dark moors. 

       Before long she could not hold back the tears and they flowed freely down her face. She felt Dom’s gait struggle as they reached the beach and a salty breeze hit her face. Sobbing, the dark lady motioned Dom to stop and slid from his back. Dropping into the sand, she prostrated herself and wept.


End file.
